


Hate It When They Drown Me

by orphan_account



Series: One Boy In All The World [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And More Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Stiles, Drowning, M/M, Slayer!Stiles, Stiles-centric, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You know when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. It’s called voluntary apnea. It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding. Then when you finally do let it in, that’s when it stops hurting. It’s not scary anymore, it’s… it’s actually kind of peaceful.”<i></i></i>
</p><p>Buffy AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate It When They Drown Me

**Author's Note:**

> You guys.

Stiles is swimming through a dark haze of _what the fuck just happened_ and _ow my head_. The game, his mind flashes he was at the game, something had happened to Jackson and then Stiles had stepped out for a minute only to be jumped by six hunters. They had no obvious weapons on them so Stiles was busy kicked ass when he suddenly felt something wet and slimy on the glove of one the guys when Stiles’s blocked his bunch. It took Stiles only a few seconds figure out that the slimy substance was the kanima’s venom before he collapses in a heap.  

 

The knocking out had just been a little extra-added fun. Stiles blinks the dark and slightly lighter shapes starting to join and become less of a blur. A basement he’s lying in a basement and he can’t turn his head or move any part of his body expect his eyes and his mouth (thank god where would he be without his primary weapon).  

 

“Nice of you to join us Mr Stilinski.” Says a voice but Stiles can’t turn his head to the sound but he knows that over-confident drawl as Gerard Argent.

 

Great he’s stuck in a basement with a madman though this seems slightly better than the last time when he was stuck in cellar with the members of the Swim team who were trying to bribe a giant worm demon with human sacrifices so they could win at least one race.

 

There are other hunters here to Stiles can hear their heavy footfalls. And then Gerard is there crouching over Stiles’s with a smug look on his face that is just begging to meet Stiles’s fist. “I’m sure you’re aware of integration techniques.”

 

“You mean good cop bad cop?” Stiles snipes.

 

Gerard nods to someone out of frame and then Stiles feels someone griping his shins pushing his legs so they are off the ground. Stiles forces himself to stay calm.

 

“The one we use is a lot easier,” then Gerard has got sick smile on his face, “and when I say easier I mean for us. It originated form Spain in the 1500s and was used commonly by the Central Intelligence Agency in questioning Al-Qaeda members. Waterboarding, it gives the sensation of drowning without actual being held in water. I thought it would be more appropriate since you can’t hold your own neck up.”

 

“Bite me.” Stiles snaps out he’d be throwing these guys off if he wasn’t paralyzed and they’d be the ones that were fucked and not him.

 

Gerard just laughs. “Yes, you youth have such colourful language nowadays.”

 

“Why am I getting such special treatment?” Stiles says stalling him because they’ve got a plan him, Scott and Deaton and as much as Stiles wants shout in Gerard’s face who he’s messing with, it needs to be this way with Gerard in the dark about Stiles so when they finally corner him he’s in for a surprise.

 

Gerard’s hand goes into his pocket and withdraws with a towel. “I can’t have Scott’s little friend who always seems to be getting in the way ruining my plans.”

 

“Yeah well, I aim to misbehave.”

 

The only reaction that Stiles get’s is a raised eyebrow. 

 

It makes Stiles sad.

 

Gerard is reaching for his towel once more and draping it over till it’s completely covering Stiles’s face pulling it tight so there’s no room for air or light to get in. Stiles’s hears the sound of people moving around and then a whimper. So he’s not the only person stuck here.  

 

“Are you scared Mr Stilinski?” Gerard’s voice says slight muffled.

 

When Stiles breathes in he tastes cloth and washing detergent. “You’re going to have to do a lot better sir.”

 

Later when Stiles’s tries to got through the event in his head he won’t be able to remember much, not the insults and taunts coming from Gerard or the whimpers and muffled screams from Boyd and Erica or even the fucking temperature of the water as he chokes on it.

 

It will feel like an age, nothing but an impossible burn and wet stuffing its way down his throat as he chokes on it. Like when you’re little and you duck under the water in your bath and feel it forcing it’s way up your nose.

 

It’s a human’s natural reaction to want to live, it’s written right down to the core, and even if you’re suicidal it’s still instinct. Yet as Stiles keeps his jaw firmly clamped shut he can’t help but think is this it?

 

All this looking over his shoulder waking up everyday and having to fight, lying to the people he loves that can be over if he just opens his mouth.

 

Peace. Oh god it sounds so perfect.

 

Right at this moment where everything is turned right down dulled his world nothing but white this is peace, this is what he wants.

 

No, _nononono_ fucking hell, peace and rest that can come later.

 

When he’s taking down an army of vampires, the oldest, strongest demon maybe then. But no he’s not dying today. And he sure as hell isn’t dying at the hands of a hunter.

 

So Stiles’s opens his mouth and let’s the water back in.

 

It’s like someone’s turned a light on in his brain, the burn is back with vengeance, the chocking and gagging noises with the feel of water pouring down his shirt.

 

It feels fucking sublime.    

 

He’s pretty sure he passes out just as they are manhandling him into a chair.

 

When he wakes up again he wakes to the feeling of burning all down his throat right to his lungs, his neck is killing him and he knows there are fingertip shaped bruises covering his skin. He sniffs sharply an uncomfortable feeling in his nose from snorting the water; his eyes and lids are burning also from the water and rough material of the towel and he feels dizzy and light headed from lack of oxygen. 

 

Boyd and Erica are hanging from the celling wrapped in wire and Stiles’s eyes follow the leads to see them connected to an electrical box. Right, someone is definitely going to die. 

 

 The venom has worn off because Stiles can move his hands between the rope bonds. He turns his head to see one of Gerard’s men guarding at bottom of the stairs and wait a second, is the asshole wearing his leather jacket? Mistake number one. “Hey buddy, hey, hey.”

 

The man approaches him not looking wary at all. Mistake number two.

 

Stiles’s lolls his head to the side purposely putting a slur in his voice. “Chair s’very comfortable,” The guy is close and he looks ready to knock him out so as to get him to shut up, mistake number three. “Maybe, maybe I can make one sssuggestion for next time?”

 

The poor bastard never sees it coming.

 

“Legs.” He says before kicking his foot up hard to meet the man’s groin.

 

Rule one of capture: always remember to tie up you’re victims legs.

 

Rule one of Stiles capture: Never steal his most precious article of clothing it will end in you never being able to reproduce again.   

 

The guy is on his knees gripping at his crotch in pain and it gives Stiles’s the chance to head-butt him knocking him out.   

 

Stiles manages to escape the pathetic rope knots but not before Chris Argent barges through the door. He takes one glance at a free Stiles standing over one of his unconscious men then he’s moving down stairs.

 

Stiles’s muscles and limbs may be slow and sluggish with ache but he’s pretty sure he could take Chris down if he had to.   

 

“I’m not sorry.” Stiles tells him and he picks up the arm of the unconscious man so as to remove _his_ leather jacket no matter how bad it looks.  

 

Instead of going to him Chris steps over to the electrical box. “Nor do I want you to be.” There’s a click and Stiles watches as the electrical current stops and he breaths a sigh of relief with Erica and Boyd. 

 

“You hunters have stepped over the very neat line that I drew.” Stiles snaps putting his leather jacket back on, the fat fucker stretched it. When Derek finds out and he will because the leather probably stinks of the asshole Stiles is going to be in big trouble. He makes a note to himself to drop it off at the dry cleaning when all this shit is over and done with. Chris nods to him and yeah Stiles get’s it looks like they’re going to be a Batman and Catwoman team up after all.   

 

“Weapons.” Chris nods leading the way to the garage. Stiles doesn’t follow at first watching Boyd and Erica as they free themselves, embracing. For a moment Stiles wants to go to them but he get’s it they’ve chosen their side and Stiles could never be mad at them for that.

 

The Argent’s have a very impressive weapons collection but Stiles bypasses the guns, his eyes attracted right away to the double-sided axe. “I’m taking the axe, think of it as payment for your father trying to drown me.”

 

“It belonged to my ancestors in the 1700s, it killed the first ever werewolf.”

 

“Fitting.” Stiles murmured. “You sure you’re ancestor wasn’t a slayer.”

 

Chris smiles and it’s the first genuine one he’s seen. “She might have been.”      

 

His face-hardens “I’m going to kill him.”

 

Stiles swirls the axe round, checking its weight. “Yeah well get in line.”

 

“And Allison?” Chris asks warily like he thinks Stiles is going to try and cut off his head at the mention of her. Sure Allison probably did know that Stiles was being held down in that cellar just not all the gory details. Stiles knows what it’s like to be blinded by grief to have it over come him so he could barely step out of the house without having a panic attack. Strangely enough the day he found out he was the Slayer sort of cured him, he had something to channel all his energy into, it was kind of the thing the thing that brought him back to life in away, gave him the strength to feel brave.     

 

“She gets a get out of jail free card. No one deserves to lose their mother.” No matter if they were a psychotic bitch who tried to kill his best friend and the guy he is sort of but not yet admitted he’s in love with.

 

Chris rests his hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

Stiles’s nods enough heart to hearts he really need to kill something with his new killer axe. “You go ahead I need to swing by and pick something up.”

 

Chris has got the fatherly worried look but it’s kind of nice. “You sure you’re alright to drive?”

 

“I’ve faced worse than your father going all Norman Bates, wait he doesn’t dress up in his mother’s clothing does he?”

 

Chris gives him the look that Stiles is use to seeing.

 

“Oh right big bad going on focus Stiles.”

 

Chris seems hesitant for a second. “Don’t be late.” 

 

 _Wouldn’t dream of it,_ Stiles thinks.

 

.

 

Convincing Lydia to come along is a lot easier than Stiles would have thought. He just needs to say the words _Jackson_ and _save_ and she’s in. She’s really relaxed about it to she doesn’t even ask about the medieval axe on his dashboard.

 

“You’re not going to hurt him are you?”

 

“Nope,” Stiles says clicking his tongue, foot flooring the accelerator no doubt breaking every traffic law in place in the US but thank god for slayer reflexes. “They only one I care about hurting is Gerard Argent.”

 

“Allison’s grandfather?”

 

“That’s the one.”

 

Lydia is silent for a few moments. “So what are you exactly?”    

 

“I’m the slayer.” God he feels badass but then the feeling vanishes. “And I’m a boy!” He shouts.

 

“I noticed.” Lydia says completely lost.

 

“Oh yeah,” he forgets that sometimes normal people don’t know about him ergo don’t think he’s meant to be a girl.

 

Luckily they arrive just as the fighting starts, unluckily…

 

“Damn.”

 

“What is it?” Lydia says next to him.

 

“Vampires.” Of course Gerard recruited vampires.

 

“What like the sparkly kind?” Lydia asks hopefully.  

 

“No.”

 

He digs into his pocket and yes ever-resourceful Stiles still has his trusty Mr Pointy. “Here,” he says giving it to her, “try not to get bit and remember the heart is slightly to the left.” 

 

He feels kind of bad for leaving her but one of the vampires is taking Derek’s distracted state with Jackson as a chance to pounce. No way anyone tries to kill his almost but not really boyfriend. Really Stiles is going to have to work on that once he’s done.

 

Vamp number one’s neck lands on Stiles’s axe and turns to dust.

 

Derek is round and snarling, said snarling doesn’t stop even when he notices Stiles. “You’re late.” He growls.

 

“Sorry honey I was held up.” He counters rolling his eyes.

 

Jackson tries for another swipe and Stiles (it’s reflex okay) cuts his hand off with his axe. “Oops.”

 

Jackson just smirks and then before their eyes the limb is growing back like something out of an episode of Doctor Who. “Er,” Stiles stutters eyes wide. Jackson uses his new hand to knock Stiles’s axe out of the way. “Right,” he says to Derek, “you deal with teenage mutant ninja turtle, I’ll take the vamps.”

 

Stiles flips back, when Jackson makes his move to attack, landing in a full twist, grabbing his axe and ready for business. Gerard obviously didn’t check over the vampire’s résumés because they are a piece of cake.

 

“Well, well,” Stiles hears when he decapitates his last vamp.

 

Gerard’s arms are crossed and for a second Stiles is reminded of Kate Argent just before she died, cocky and over-confident. “Very impressive Mr Stilinski but it was my understanding that I was looking for the opposite gender.”

 

“Well Merry Christmas asshole,” Stiles bites out.

 

Surely if there’s no Gerard then there’s no one controlling Jackson, yeah Stiles like’s the sound of that. Gerard’s pretty spry for an older fellow but his punches are slow and sluggish compared to what Stiles is use to. And when Stiles’s fist connects with his smug face the guy definitely isn’t going to get back in the game. Next Stiles kicks him on the kneecap so his legs buckle and hit the floor.

 

“This is for trying to drown me you sadistic fuck.” He spins in a roundhouse kick his foot slamming into the side of the hunter’s face so he’s spitting blood and teeth.

 

Stiles is about to get his axe and finish the fucker off when he hears Scott shout his name. He turns only to see Jackson holding Allison between his claws.

 

Right, the plan.

 

Stiles’s doesn’t look away when he sees Gerard vomit black blood like the scene out of The Exorcist, but it doesn’t however give him any satisfaction seeing the man in pain and dying. But seeing Lydia and Jackson – now healed – does at least calm him.  

 

But then he’s losing his shit all over again.     

 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Peter fucking Hale is back from the dead and he so did not okay this resurrection

 

Derek doesn’t look happy about it either. “Lydia brought him back to life.”

 

“What?” Stiles screeches, whatever tiny bit of love he still has for Lydia that hasn’t been swallowed by Derek vanishes at hearing that information. “Then kill him.”

 

When no one makes a move to do so, not even the all-vengeful Allison, Stiles takes it upon himself. 

 

“You know what I’ll do it.”

 

“No.” Derek snaps and he’s grabbing Stiles’s hand in his, if Stiles weren’t so focused on the fact that Peter Hale is alive he might have shrieked like a girl.  

 

Peter grins like a fucking psychopath. “We’re all friends here.”

 

“No,” Stiles snaps out “we are not friends, we are the furthest thing from friends, we’re not even on the same scale as not-friends.”

 

“Stiles I have missed you.” Jesus Christ what is with this guy. But Derek isn’t budging; even Scott looks like he’s agreeing.   

 

Stiles (and as much as he hates himself in this moment) unclasps his hand from Derek’s, approaching Peter, axe slung over his shoulder. “The second you take a step out of line I swear to god I will kill you.” Peter still grins the I know you best grin and for a second Stiles thinks to hell with it.

 

He leaves, he just needs to get out because he feels like he’s back in that cellar and he can’t breathe.

 

“Stiles.” Derek says trying to stop him.

 

“No,” Stiles’s says, moving away when Derek looks like he’s about to reach for him. “I just god- Derek I,”

 

He tries to take in breaths, clear his head. He walks away, heading out of the warehouse, away from all the shit, to where he doesn’t know, just to where it feels like there’s air.

 

“I just need to breath.”  

 

Funnily enough it’s a lot harder after that. 

**Author's Note:**

> We meet again so soon, I just watched the Battlefield episode and I couldn't help but write this after Stiles's mini monologue and Buffy's history with drowning. 
> 
> I probably won't write anything else till Season 3 comes out (I'm stuck in the UK so I have no idea when that will be) but you guys just inspired me and thank you for your kudos and comments. 
> 
> Again I apologise for any bed spelling and grammar and any of my writing that results in second hand embarrassment. 
> 
> *Title comes from a Buffy quote.* 
> 
> All my knowledge of waterboarding comes from wiki and the Zero Dark Thirty movie.


End file.
